


you were a thief who stole my heart

by shippingthebullshit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Cutting/Self-Harm, EVENTUAL Nick/Louis, Fluff, Het, Mentions/Hints of Gay Sex, Multi, Piano Player, Trigger Warnings: Bulimia, Underage because Leslie's 17, mobbing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingthebullshit/pseuds/shippingthebullshit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re making me want to slam my head into the piano keys. Literal piano destruction is about to happen if they don’t calm the fuck down and get the fuck back to work. I groan when we have to stop sound check for the tenth time because these five idiots can’t stop laughing.</p><p>I’ve done it now. All these years of practice, and recitals, and all nighters to memorize sheet music for pieces to prepare for my chance at a world tour, and I get stuck with five children. Children. They’re all essentially children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've written Het. I can't believe I've finally done it, but I did and here it is, and I'm not ashamed to say that I'm am actually really proud of this. Sooooo. Enjoy:)

Chapter 1

Sitting in the middle of my living room, X-box controller in one hand, bottle of Coke in the other, I’m sprawled on my floor playing FIFA and having a Leslie day. The front door of my flat opens, and I glare at my brother when he looms over me and interrupts my lovely round.

“What,” I spat out at him.

Luca rolls his eyes and plops down beside me, motioning for me to make the next round two-player.

As I sigh in annoyance, I fiddle with the controller and start a new game.

“What do you want?” I ask again, a whining tone in my voice.

“You’ve got a band interested in you. Their keyboardist just quit because he was tired of touring,” he explains.

“Okay. Who are they?” I asked suspiciously, pausing the game. I gape at him.

“One Direction.”

I cackle and fall to the floor. “You’re kidding.” I pull myself together and look back up at him, wiping away a few stray tears. When his serious face doesn’t change, I shake my head. “No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Less, C’mon. It’s Liam’s band,” he adds, most likely trying to persuade me.

“No, Luca. You know what we agreed. No. Boy. Bands.”

“Lessee, at least do it for Li.”

I huff and rest my forehead in my hands. “What’s the pay?”

“About 75 thousand pounds.” I want to smack the smirk off of his face.

Groaning instead, I flop back and cover my hands.

“Fine, you incorrigible twat.”

..oo00oo..

 

He told me that the meeting was at four, so I suppose I had around two hours. After Luca leaves, I trudge my way into my piano room, close the curtains to block the light and turn the fairy lights above my baby grand on. When I look on the music stand I find the folder of sheet music that he told me he had left. Opening it up, I roll my eyes.

Most of the boy bands, or pop culture ones, considered using guitarist and drummers instead of ‘classically trained’ pianists, so the music I find is easy, almost too easy. Chords and slight left-handed progressing grace the page, along with a few riffs. I can have fun with this, but it’s simple. Boy bands, honestly.

Technically, I’m not even trained in anything. My mum put me into dozens of different things— dance, gym, ballet, you name it, I was in it— before I decided that I loved piano. Ten years of lessons and millions of recitals, and I’d stayed with it, and thank God I had. That was how I had been discovered: A talent scout was at one of my many recitals or requested appearances (they all sort of started to blend together after a while) and felt that it was his duty to put my name ‘out there’, wherever there was.

So, here I am. Seventeen and on my way to becoming the biggest name in the piano scene.

I love it, sure, but, it’s stressful.

Luca knew this, yet, he still pushed me to play for bigger names and better bands. I know he was only doing it for my benefit, but sometimes, I just want to sleep.

I glance at the clock and sigh: 3:45. Better get going, wouldn’t want to keep ‘the boys’ waiting.

..oo00oo..

As soon as I walk into the Starbucks down the street from the flat, I’m greeted with three very large— enthusiastic— boys.

“’ello love. I’m Harry.” The boy, about Luca’s height, with dark brown curly hair, has a very thick Cheshire accent and is holding a large sweaty palm out to me.

I smile back warily and shake his hand gently. “Hi,” I reply, glancing around nervously, looking for my brother.

“Let the girl sit, Haz. Geez, you’re overwhelming her!” A shorter, though equally as jumpy, boy smiles at me and holds out a hand as well. “Name’s Louis. Pleasure to meet ya.”

My smiled is more genuine now and I shake his hand. “I’m Leslie.”

They guide me toward a table in the back, blocked from the site and sounds of screaming fans.

I take a seat next to a very pale, blond boy a few inches taller than I am, who seems very intrigued by a cup of coffee and multiple scones.

“That’s Niall, don’t mind him, he wouldn’t miss a meal, or any other time to snack for that matter.” The man on my left says. I had been introduced to him before. He was their caretaker. No, body guard. Yes, that was it. Now, what was his name? Phil? No. Preston? Ah, Paul. Yes.

The other boys laugh at him, and Niall, seemingly unaware of the commotion, continues with his inhalation of food.

“So, you’re our new piano player?” Louis asks me.

I smile and nod. “Suppose so. So, there are only three of you?” I question, looking for Liam.

“Oh God no. We’re only waiting for Liam and Zayn, they live a little farther out from us. Niall, where’s your boy?” He calls out across the table. Niall looks up with a mouthful of scone. “Went fer a run.” A swallow. “Was still in the shower when I left,” Niall replies.  
As he says it a boy bursts through the door, out of breath and thoroughly disheveled.

“Sorry I’m late. Got into a bit of a squabble with the Landlady. Guess she decided it was good a time as any that she pay a visit to my flat in nothing but her knickers.” I hear the Wolverhampton accent before I saw it’s owner and he turns, eyes widening and a smile forming on his face.

“Les! God!” He chuckles and picks me up, swinging me around as I wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hi, Li. It’s good to see you, too,” I giggle into his shoulder.

He sits me down and the smile stays on my face.

“Where’s Luca?” He asks, sitting beside Niall. My eyes widen when Liam leans over and pecks Niall nonchalantly on the side of his mouth and nicks a biscuit.

I gain a few odd looks and Liam’s mouth drops open as he realizes what he’s just done.

“Um… Less.. I… I’ve got a boyfriend?” He chuckles nervously and gulps.

“A boyfriend… You’ve… You’ve a boyfriend?” I ask, clarifying. “The same Li, who never ever wanted to date anyone?” I question.

“Erm, yeah…” He replies.

I giggle and smile widely. “I’m glad you’ve found someone, Li,” I respond, leaning over the table to pat his hand.

Luca walks up then, sitting beside me. “See you’ve met Niall.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” I swat at his arm.

“Not until yesterday, don’t worry. He wanted to tell us together.”

“He’s right here you know,” Liam butts in.

We all laugh before a deep voice saunters into our conversation: “Now, Li Li, it seems as though you have quite a lot of explaining to do.”

When I look up, I’m met with gorgeously accentuated features, wonderful chocolate brown eyes, beautiful Arabian skin and a perfectly styled quiff. Marvelously toned abdominal muscles, sexy upper-ear piercing, and Christ on a pogo… Don’t even get me started on the tattoos. Oh, sweet baby Jesus. I’ve got to stop; I think I’m drooling.

“I’m Zayn,” the voice says as he offers me a hand. I smile in what I hope is an extremely attractive way, and he returns it, kissing my hand. I blush. “And who might you be, gorgeous?” He asks with a wink.

I raise an eyebrow and take my hand away slowly. “Your keyboardist,” I reply, offended. How dare he, he doesn’t even know me.

“Zayn, down boy,” Louis calls. I smirk and giggle quietly into my palm.

Zayn glares but sits next to him anyway.

“Now, we wanted to meet you before we started the tour. We’ve been told by a certain big brother that you’re quite talented, so we’re not particularly worried that you’ll be lost, but we’d like to hear you play with the band, just to see if you guys can work nicely together. Will that be a problem?” Louis explains, smiling at me hopefully.

I think for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that’ll be fine. I’d actually really like to play with you guys, just to get a feel for your voices.”

“I think we can arrange that,” Liam answers, nodding.

“Great, so… When?” I trail off.

“Um, we were… Think that maybe you’d like to do it today?” Harry asks.

“That’s great. Like, right now?” I question, excited now.

“Yeah,” Liam replies.

“Okay… You guys lead the way.”

We’re out of the cafe with minimal injuries and I count it a good day, mostly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've stuck it out this long, I promise it's wort the wait. Please don't be angry with me my little slash lovers. I love you all, and I'm not going to be a horrible person and write really terrible Het smut (which I can actually write really well and just, gah, I'm sorry)

Chapter 2

I throw my keys into the bowl on my counter and plop onto my couch, tired and only wanting to sleep. My plans are foiled when my phone buzzes and lights up with a call from Liam.

“Hello?” I answer blearily, rubbing my eyes.

“You’re not mad. About Niall… Are you?” He asks instantly, and it’s such a Liam move that I have to chuckle.

“No, no I’m not mad, promise,” I reply. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

I hear him let out a shaky breath and laugh. “Thank God. I thought—” he drops off and says something that I can’t quite make out.

“Li, you still there?” I ask softly as I move into my kitchen to put on the kettle.

“Yeah, sorry, the boys came over after you left and Ni says we’re out of beer.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll let you go then, I suppose,” I reply.

“No, Less, I was actually calling you to ask if you want to come over,” he responds.

I smile. “I’ll be over in ten. Text me directions?”

 

————

I pull into the carpark of Liam’s building and almost run over the Arabian bloke from this afternoon. Muttering bitterly to myself as I curse his very existence, I try to find a decent parking section.

He’s waiting for the lift to Liam and Niall’s flat; God hates me. I’m convinced.

“‘Lo, love,” he charms, smiling widely. I nod in greeting and push the up button again, counting down the levels until our floor lights up and the doors open with a ding.

“After you,” he smiles and motions to the door, bowing slightly.

I roll my eyes as I get in and press Liam’s floor number.

“So… You’re Liam’s little sister. Right?” He asks conversationally.

“Yeah, what’d you say your name was again?”

“Zayn Malik.”

My mouth forms an ‘o.’ “So you’re Pakistani. Not Arabian. Shit, getting down on my game,” I mumble to myself as I shoot a quick text to Liam to let him know I was on the way up.

“Half,” he says.

“Huh?”

“I’m only half. My mum’s English.”

“Oh, okay. That’s cool,” I reply. We wait in silence until we reach Liam’s floor.

“Lead the way, Mr. Malik, I’ve not been here before,” I instruct, miming his actions from earlier.

Smiling, he struts— there is literally no other word for it, none— from the lift and down the hall. I follow behind diligently —not staring at his back muscles, most definitely not staring, Leslie— until we come to the end of the hall. Zayn barges into the flat without bothering to knock and I narrow my eyebrows. The look doesn’t last long, however, because I am bombarded with hugs as soon as I walk through the door.

“LESLIE!” the boy— I’m hoping it’s Louis because honestly he’s the only one I can actually stand, I’m not even sure I can tell these boys apart, and I certainly don’t like having them all over me— latched onto my neck screams excitedly.

I smile hesitantly, patting him on the back. I see a shock of feathery hair as he pulls away and yes, I was right, that was Louis.

“Hi, Lou. Hi guys,” I reply, smiling more confidently now as I move toward the kitchen. I can see Niall leaning over the stove, concentrated, and Liam staring at him lovingly.

“Hi,” I greet, hopping on the barstool beside Liam.

“Hey! I got your text. Guess Zayn showed you up alright? Sent him down for you,” Liam explains. He offers me a bowl of crisps and I take a few.

“Thanks,” I saw softly, a slight distaste in my voice; I hope it’s not noticeable.

“Less! Hi!” Niall shouts suddenly, rushing over to hug me. With a spoon in one hand, covered in sauce; a tattered, well-worn ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron tied twice around his hips; and hair a mess, he looks the epitome of a house-wife.

“Hi, Niall,” I return with a laugh and a hug. “He’s cute,” I whisper to Liam when Niall has gone back to his cooking.

“I know,” Liam giggles, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the living room.

“So, Li. Let’s hear your darling little sister play us a tune, how ‘bout it?” Harry suggests happily.

Blushing deeply, I am pushed to the side of the room that houses a pearly white baby grand. “What do I play?” I ask, looking at the boys for prompts.

“Had a chance to look over our stuff yet?” Harry questions excitedly. The other boys roll their eyes and join in a collective sigh.

“Haz, no one wants to sing something we did every night for six months,” Louis supplies from his spot on the arm of the couch.

“Wasn’t thinking ‘bout that. Want to sing Dirtbag,” he replies proudly.

My head shoots up instantly. “Please, oh my God, I love Wheatus,” I interject and plead, already pushing open the key-cover of the piano.

“Guess that settles it, boys, places for Dirtbag,” Louis orders quickly. Starting the opening chords, Harry starts out strong with the first verse:

 

His name is Niall

I have a dream about him

He rings my bell

I got gym class in half an hour

Oh, how He rocks

In Keds and tube socks

But He doesn’t know who I am

And He doesn’t give a damn about me

 

‘Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby

Yeah, I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby

Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me

 

My boyfriend’s a dick

 

(“NIALL!” I hear Liam shout at his boyfriend and I giggle, adding in riffs and rolls and the touch of me that everyone loves.)

 

And he brings a gun to school

And he’d simply kick

My ass if he knew the truth

He lives on my block

And he drives an IROC

But he doesn’t know who I am

And he doesn’t give a damn about me

 

‘Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Yeah, I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me

 

Oh, yeah, dirtbag, no, she doesn’t know what she’s missin’

Oh, yeah, dirtbag, no, she doesn’t know what she’s missin’

 

(Zayn winks at me as he sings it and twirls Louis around; I only roll my eyes at him.)

 

(Louis walks to Harry slowly, grabbing his hand and kissing it softly when his verse comes up.)

 

Man, I feel like mold

It’s prom night and I am lonely

Low and behold

He’s walking over to me

This must be fake

My lip starts to shake

How does he know who I am?

And why does he give a damn about me

 

(Niall and Liam dance into the room widely as Liam sings his verse.)

 

I’ve got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby

Come with me Friday, don’t say “maybe”

I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you

 

Oh, yeah, dirtbag, no, he doesn’t know what he’s missin’

Oh, yeah, dirtbag, no, he doesn’t know what he’s missin’

 

We’re all laughing and panting and smiling widely when we finish. “That was amazing guys. Please tell me we’re doing that this tour. Please,” I beg teasingly.

Liam laughs and nods as he plops down on the sofa, Niall on his lap. “I’m sure we’ll be able to work it in somewhere, won’t we boys,” Louis adds, curling in bedside Harry. They’re smiling widely and whispering to each other secretively, much like Liam and Niall are doing at the moment.

“You’ll get used to the couples eventually. It might take a while though. They grow on you,” Zayn muses when I sit in the chair next to him.

“They’re cute,” I reply with a grin.

“They’re sickening,” he responds teasingly. Laughing, I shake my head as I pull out my phone. We sit there contently wrapped into our own little worlds until Niall jumps up, exclaiming, “I FORGOT ABOUT ME CHICKEN!” We all burst into laughter as he rushes into the kitchen.

“Is he always like that?”

“Always,” they say in unison.

 

*****

 

“Dinner was great, Niall. Much better than the left over take away I’ve got sitting in my fridge,” I praise when I hug Liam tightly. I’m getting ready to leave when Harry and Louis burst out of the washroom, sweaty and thoroughly disheveled. I’m positive I must look like a gaping fish with my mouth hung open.

“I do believe that’s my cue,” I hear Zayn say from inside the flat. Harry is blushing to the tips of his curls as Louis pulls him out the door, mumbling something about pleasantries and house rules. Giggling, I say goodbye to Liam and Niall and follow Zayn toward the lift.

“You’re really something else, aren’t you?” He’s leant against the wall, smiling at me.

I blush, much to the degree of Harry, and whisper out a timid, “thanks.”

“I mean it. You’re an amazing piano player.”

“Thanks. I don’t get that very much anymore,” I say, looking down in embarrassment. I don’t get compliments much, especially not from attractive boys.

“Well I’m telling you. You’re amazing, Leslie Starr.”

 

________

 

“LUCA! WHERE ARE MY KEYS?!” I yell as soon as I come to my wits. I’m trying to pack for a world tour that we’re leaving for tomorrow, and though the boys had advised me to start packing early to make sure you didn’t leave anything, I’d procrastinated until the last minute.

“IN THE BOWL WHERE THEY ALWAYS ARE!” He shouts back from his spot on my sofa.

“GET OFF YOUR LAZY ARSE AND HELP ME PACK I’M LEAVING TOMORROW!” I cry brokenly from inside my closet. “Please?” I add for good measure. I hear him let out a sigh and a few moments later there’s the sound of him tromping down the hallway. Smirking to myself satisfactorily, I chuck another pair of TOMS into my bag.

“Well, dear, it seems as though you’ve only just remembered that you’re leaving for a world tour tonight.” Luca teases.

My head shoots up so quickly I almost snap my neck. “WHAT?!” I screech.

 

————

Grumbling to himself as he throws the last of my bags under the band bus, the driver closes the doors to the compartments underneath and trudges back up the stairs. I’m checking my bag for any forgotten items when I hear someone calling my name. I look up and see Niall running wildly from the boy’s bus and waving his arms to get my attention.

“You’re riding with us,” he pants, resting his hands on his knees when he skids to a stop in front of me.

“Okay,” I reply, grabbing his arm and pulling him back toward their bus. He bounds up the stairs and flops straight into Liam’s lap, nuzzling his nose into the boy’s shoulder as I climb the stairs slowly. I close the door behind me and situate myself on the side of the sofa that’s not preoccupied with Harry and Louis. Zayn comes out from the back and situates himself in front of me, smiling up as he offers me a game controller. “Up for a round of FIFA?” He asks.

I smiled and snatch it up from his grip. “You’re going down Malik,” I growl teasingly.

He only laughs and starts a new game as the bus rolls out of the carpark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can feel you all judging me. It's getting worse, and worse, and I'm sorry but these chapters are being written one a day and I don't have the motivation normally to churn out a chapter a day so you know what? I'm proud of this little Het story:). Okay, I'm done ranting now. You can read on.

I wake with a screech to the five hyper, very excited boys peering into my bunk, equally creepy grins on all of their faces.

“Good morning to you, too,” I drawl out, slightly annoyed. Pulling the duvet higher up over my head, I roll back over, fully intent on getting at least two more hours of sleep. They, however, are apparently none too keen on my beauty sleep— or lack there of.

“Uh uh, missy. We’ve got to check into the hotel in twenty minutes. Get up and get your shit together so we can go to breakfast.” I roll back over and see that only Zayn is left, and he looks about as happy as I am to have been woken up this early.

“Can’t I just stay on the bus?” I whine, flopping onto my back hopelessly and sighing.

“No. Get up,” he instructs, no sympathy, pushing up on his knee and leaving me to my own devices. I groan and stretch my way out of my bunk, only to fall over Louis and Niall’s discarded football. I go down flailing and screaming.

“YOU’RE A MENACE MALIK!” I yell in defeat from my face down position.

 

——

 

When I’ve finally gathered the sanity needed to venture into the real world— after my hotel room has been fairly organized (I’m sharing with the extremely attractive drummer, Josh, I’m thanking the gods, really I am) and I’ve a fair amount of coffee coursing my veins— I’ve got a carry out mug of tea in one hand and my iPod in the other, ready to face the day— after my run of course.

I meet Liam coming down the hall from his room in much the same dress as me— running shorts, a muscle shirt, trainers— and I smile. “Fancy a run big brother?”

We start around the block and toward the park he said we’d passed earlier in the bus.

“I— actually— wanted to ask you something,” he pants out when we’ve stopped.

I nod and unplug one of my ear buds. “Okay,” I reply, equally as winded.

“It’s about, about the guy, you were seeing. What was his name, Christ.” He closes his eyes and thinks for a minute. “Nathan? No. Nick? No, no.”

“Noah,” I supply.

“NOAH! That’s it!” He shouts suddenly, and I giggle.

“What about him?” I question, sitting on a nearby bench.

“Is he still. I mean. Are you still?” I shake my head when I realize what he’s asking.

“No, God no. He broke it off after he found out about—” I trail off, and I’m positive Liam knows what I’m thinking.

Liam nods offhandedly. “Why?” I ask softly, fiddling with my headphones.

“No reason. Was only curious.”

I don’t believe him for a second; Liam doesn’t ask about my relationships, never has. It’s odd, him out of the blue asking, but I let it drop, knowing that I’ll get it out of him sooner or later.

“Race you back to the hotel?” I suggest, already getting up. He laughs and shakes his head but jumps ahead of me as soon as I say three.

 

——-

They’re making me want to slam my head into the piano keys. Literal piano destruction is about to happen if they don’t calm the fuck down and get the fuck back to work. I groan when we have to stop sound check for the tenth time because these five idiots can’t stop laughing.

I’ve done it now. All these years of practice, and recitals, and all nighters to memorize sheet music for pieces to prepare for my chance at a world tour, and I get stuck with five children. Children. They’re all essentially children.

“Oh my god.” And that’s it, because am I the only one who thinks we’re wasting time? Honestly. “I need a fucking fag,” I spit out, pushing back my bench and storming off of the stage. After rifling through my bag thoroughly and not coming up with anything even moderately resembling a cigarette, I collapse on the floor. Mostly from annoyance, but stress and the exhaustion of having been doing this for three hours has started to seep through. I hide my face in my hands as the tears start to rush out and I don’t even do anything to stop them. I’m sat there, sobbing like a four year old when a knock comes to my door.

“Go the fuck away Liam!” I yell, throwing a sofa cuison just as the door opens. I don’t hear the tell-tale “ooof” of the pillow hitting someone in the stomach, and I look up to see Zayn walking toward me, pillow in hand.

“While I’m usually flattered to be compared to one of the boys, at the moment you don’t seem to be pleased with any of us,” he replies, handing me the pillow back as a sort of peace offering.

Snatching it away from him, I wipe away my tears quickly. “What do you want.”

“Just came to give you these,” he replies and he’s pulling out a pack of fags and Christ I could kiss him. I sniffle and scramble up to hug him, my arms barely wrapping around his waist. My nose is buried in his shirt and I’m crying again because Zayn is my savior and he’s wonderful and he’s Zayn and he brought me fags and he’s… He’s wonderful.

“Thank you,” I whisper into his jumper.

I can feel him laughing softly before he presses a soft kiss to my hair. “You’re welcome. I can be your knight in fiery armor,” he teases offhandedly. I nod and smile, pulling away. He wipes at the tear streaks on my face and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“C’mon, we’ve got ten minutes.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the venue to a spot close to the buses. He lights a cigarette and hands it to me, lighting his own and sucking in a deep breath of smoke. As soon as I let out the first breath, I can feel myself physically relaxing and I slump against the building.

“How’d you know I couldn’t find them?” I ask softly.

“Saw Liam nick ‘em out your bag earlier,” he replies, taking a puff and blowing a smoke ring.

“Damn him,” I mutter bitterly, sending mine through my nose.

“Never was able to do that. Couldn’t quite get it right,” he tells me.

“‘S easy, Mr. Ring-of-Fire,” I respond and prod at his side.

He chuckles. “Touche`.”

We sit there until we finish our fags and it’s so cold that by the time I’ve finished mine, I’m leaning into his side for warmth. He wraps an arm around me as we walk back into the venue and I return it, smiling as my arm slips around his waist; he’s so much taller than me that it’s not really his waist, more his hips, but I’m not complaining.

Calm and ready to start fresh again, we walk onto the stage. “Thanks, Z,” I whisper, standing on my tip toes to kiss his cheek and patting his arm.

He beams at me and returns the affection. “You’re welcome, Less,” and I don’t stop smiling the rest of rehearsal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so lazy. Oh my god. I'm so, /so/ lazy.   
> I'm so sorry.  
> I could have posted this last night  
> but I didn't  
> and here it is.  
> I'm so lazy.

We’re two weeks into the tour and I’m ready to pull my hair out.  
I’d realized that touring would be stressful, but honestly, was it necessary for them to go drinking every night? Here I am, minding my own buisness, glasses on, messy bun properly ensued as I truck through Looking for Alaska, when the five blundering idiots (as I’ve taken to referring to them) come tromping in through the back; Louis and Harry have gotten themselves down to their trousers and pants only while Niall and Liam look like they’re ready to devour each other.  
Zayn, on the other hand, looks somewhat subdued, and must undoubtedly be at least partially sober-- or more so than the couples are. I sit up, intending to help them to bed when Louis and Harry shove past my bunk, tripping over each other as they kiss fiercely. Rolling my eyes when I hear the door to the double bed slam shut, I push back the throw on my bed and help Zayn maneuver Liam and Niall to their respective bunks. He sighs, plopping down on his own bunk. I sit in front of him on the cold bus floor and rest my head in my hands.  
“I’m starting to think that maybe doing this wasn’t the best idea in the world,” I whisper. I don’t look up, but he doesn’t say anything, and I’m assuming he’s agreeing. There’s a pregnant pause before he responds.  
“Did you want to? Isn’t this what you always wanted?” He asks softly, turning on his side to look at me as he props on an elbow.  
Shrugging, I look up. “Yeah, of course. But I didn’t sign up for you guys,” I reply.  
He laughs. “We are a lot to handle. But we’re kids too, Less. We have to act like “five blundering idiots” to be able to make it through the sixteen or seventeen hour days.” He motions beside him and I crawl up to sit at the foot of his bed. There’s barely enough room for him let alone both of us. He shakes his head and opens his arms, spreading his legs as well.  
I hesitate for a moment; should I really do this? Should I give myself false hope? Because honestly, when had a boy like Zayn ever liked a girl like me? I throw it all away when I see the slightly pitiful look in his eyes and crawl into his waiting arms. He pulls me in tight and I rest against his chest.  
“If this is really what you want, I’ll call a band meeting tomorrow, and we can figure out what to tell management. But,” he whispers, tilting my chin up and making me look at him. “I want you to meet someone very close to us, first. Just, let him tell you his story, and then you can decide.” He searches my face for a moment and I consider it before I nod.  
“Okay,” I mumble back, pressing my face back into his chest. I feel him press a kiss to my hair before shifting around to fish his laptop out of his bag. He schooches me over slightly-- situating me between his legs, my back against his chest-- and places the computer on my thighs. (He’s so much taller than me that he can rest comfortably against the back of his bunk and is still able to see over my head.) Telling my to load Skype, he points to a name on the screen and I click it, not recognizing the user until I see the profile. My mouth drops open and I stutter out, “Is th-that Ed She--” but cut myself off when the boy in mention pops onto the screen.  
“Zayn! Mate! Nice to see ya!” He greets, smiling. I hear people talking in the background over the noise of a rather brutal video game, and I instantly know that he’s on a bus as well. “Ahh, and who’s this beauty?” He winks at me and I blush deeply, ducking my head to hide that I’m smiling like an idiot.  
“‘M, Leslie,” I mumble shyly, looking up and waving.  
“Hello, Leslie. She’s a pretty one, Zaynie,” he teases, and I see that he’s moving, presumably to a more private location.  
Ed sits the laptop down again and I see what looks very much like the headboard of our double bed behind him.  
“So, to what do I owe the honor of this little chat?” He asks instantly and Zayn chuckles.  
“Lessee here’s having a few doubts about touring,” Zayn explains and I can feel my face flush darker.  
“Ahh, been commandeered to tell my story then, have I? Should I start from the beginning?” He’s smiling, so it’s a good thing.  
I feel Zayn nodding and when I glance back, he smiles at me. “Trust me, just listen to him.” I take a deep breath and turn back, nestling against Zayn’s chest.   
“Well, I’d been writing songs since I was fifteen...” He starts and we sit there, listening to him tell his story. I’m half beaming, half crying by the time he finishes and honestly, I feel a little like a child for moping about because I didn’t like touring.  
He and Zayn say goodbye and I wave, a new number in my phone and another friend in the music industry.  
“I’m sorry,” I whisper when Zayn has put away his laptop and I am curled next to him. “ I was dumb, and immature and.... And stupid. I really was.”  
“So you’re not going to leave us?” He asks softly, tracing circles on my arm.  
“No, I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” I mumble back, yawning. I should get up, go to my own bed, but Zayn’s warm and I feel safe in his arms. I barely manage to slip my glasses off and chuck them onto the bunk above before I’m drifting off, only resting my eyes...

\-------

They’re chasing me again, and I’m running, running as quickly as I can to get away from the demons, but this time, they’re not demons, they’re faceless, screeching spirits, reaching out, trying to grab me just as I jump--  
I wake with a start and a scream, panting and sweating as I double over in fear, tears falling down my face in rivets.   
“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,” I repeat, shaking, head between my knees.  
I feel someone grabbing me and I jerk away, shaking my head. “No, no, no. Go away, go away.” I must sound mental, but I can’t help it; no one can help me when I’m like this.  
“Leslie?” Zayn whispers. “Leslie, sweetie, it’s okay, was only a dream,” he murmurs, placing a hand on my back again. My breathing calms down and eventually I stop rocking. I gulp and wipe away the tears, choking back another sob as he opens his arms. I launch myself into them and bury my face into his chest.  
“It’s okay sweetie. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to get you.” I hear running and soon enough Liam is yanking back the curtains, collapsing in what seems to be relief in front of Zayn’s bunk when I look up at him. My face is shoved back into Zayn’s chest and I tighten my grip on his shirt.  
“Is she okay?” I hear him ask and I only shake my head quickly as I curl tighter into Zayn’s arms. Liam sighs and crawls in with us, taking me from Zayn.   
“Li. They’ve not been back. Why’re they back?” I choke out with a sob.  
“Shh, Less. It’s okay. ‘M right here. You’re gonna come back with me, okay? Stay with me for a while?” I sit back slight and nod while he brushes my hair away from my face.   
“Okay,” I mumble, burrowing back against his chest. He carries me back to his bunk and lays me down. He whispers something to Niall and suddenly two warm bodies are curled around me. It’s cramped; what with Niall and Liam and me, but it’s safe, and I cry myself to sleep for the first time in three years.

 

\-----

Having not thought to grab my glasses from where I’d thrown them last night, I trip over a pair of trainers the next morning on my way back to my own bunk. We’ve been blessed with a day off and I’m making the most of it by sleeping in. Righting myself, I trek on to the back, but stop outside of the lounge when I hear Zayn’s voice.  
“I should have done something more. No, mum. Nothing, no... she freaked out, and--” He pauses. “Well, I know that. Do you honestly think that-- no, Mum, no she’s not. Christ. No, Mum,” I gulp and run away quickly, hiding in my bunk. That’s why he hadn’t done anything last night? Because I had scared him? God, I really was an idiot. He does one nice thing for me and I assume that it’s perfectly fine to bunk with him. Shit. I’d gone and ruined everything like I always did. I scramble to the small toilet at the end of the hall and lock the door behind me. Stripping down to my underwear and bra, I gulp and pull out my toiletries bag; I unzip the side compartment and let out a breath, already relaxing at the sight of the razor. Skipping out of the normal ritual and breaking the casing, I hasten to get to the blades and find the relief I know they’ll bring me.  
It’s been so long, I hardly recognize the slight pinch of the first slice when I drag the blade across my hip bones. I’m opening old wounds, ones that have long since been scarred over, and I sigh in relief, tears starting to fall now. It feels so nice, the pain, the blood trickling down my side: I’ve missed this. Gulping back a few stray tears, I pluck a disinfectant cloth from my bag and wipe up the blood, wincing at the sting of the alcohol. I hiss out and open a plaster to slap on the cut. When I’ve cleaned up any trace of residue from my little “splurge,” I trek back into the bus, happier and lighter than I’ve been all week. I find the boys in the front rooms, playing video games and horsing around, and I plop onto Louis’s lap, stealing his controller.  
I giggle when Harry comes back from the fridge and looks put out. “You stole my chair.”  
“But he’s just so comfortable. do you really blame me?” I reply, pouting as I look up at him through my eyelashes. Harry snorts and rolls his eyes but plops down beside me and smiled. “Of course he is, darling, have you seen those thighs?” He teases, pinching said thighs as Louis swats at him.  
“Oi! I’ll have you know these are the greatest thighs England’s ever seen!” Louis protests, and we all laugh at that, falling over one another dramatically. It almost makes me forget what I’ve just done... Almost. But now, sitting here with the boys-- oh hell, who am I kidding, they’re all mine-- my boys, I’m content... I wish I were happy, but content is good. Content is fine. Content is... is safe. And safe is as close to happy as I’ll ever be. But I’m okay with that, because as long as I’m safe, I don’t have to worry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie doke, so I'm really sorry this chapter is a shorty, but I wanted to get it out before I went on vacation. I won't post next week and I probably won't post the next, but hopefully we'll get a chapter before July.:) maybe. If I'm motivated. (Which I'm not so, don't sit around expecting it:))

Though I’m fairly sure Josh hates me for it--it meaning he has to bunk with Sandy--, I’ve managed to talk Paul into letting me have my own room for the weekend we’ve got offI’ve. Not that I’m planning on ‘scoring’, as Josh so crudely put it, I only want a bit of privacy.  
I sit in bed, eating chocolate, watching Rom-Coms, snuggling into my lovely cupcake pajamas; it’s the first real ‘Leslie’ day I’ve had in a very long time. It’s so nice, just to have the night to myself, that I decide to stay in and go to sleep at a wonderful time instead of arse o’clock in the morning like we normally do.  
I’m nestling in for the night when a knock comes to the door. Sighing and rolling my eyes, I tug on a sweatshirt and traipse to the door. Lifting up on my tiptoes to peer out of the peep hole, I smile a bit to myself when I see Louis. I throw open the door, though, and sigh heavily as I lean against the door frame, a frown on my face.  
“Can’t you people just leave me to my Titanic and chocolate for one night? That’s all I ask,” I croak out, throwing my hands up in mock defeat. He only rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out.  
“Harry and I are going out with a few of our non-famous friends for drinks and we wanted to know if you’d like to come,” Louis replies as he taps his foot impatiently. Rolling my eyes, I shake my head and laugh.  
“No thanks, I’m good. I’m perfectly content to bug Zayn through the wall with Britney Spears and Love Actually. You guys go out, have some fun.” I shoo him away, giggling when he looks at me oddly.  
“You’re a strange creature, Leslie Payne,” he responds. “Have fun,” he tells me, leaning in for a hug.  
“You too!” I call down the hall at his and Harry’s retreating forms. Sighing in content, I crawl back into my nest of pillows and blankets stolen from the extra bed and the other boys’ rooms and drift off to the crooning of Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran.  
\--  
When I have nightmares, I don’t realize I’m having one until the demons come. They’re not normal ‘demons’ either: they’re the people I love, covered in blood and guts and sliced open. I didn’t realize that’s what they were until I saw Liam’s distinct new tattoo in one of the terrors. It scared me more than anything had ever scared me before. I’d woken up in a cold sweat with Luca by my side, whispering soothing things into my ear.  
Though I don’t have them every night, when they are apparent, they’re horrible.  
I’m running; I don’t really know from what, but when I round the corner of the alley, a pile of bodies lay in the middle of it. From where I’m standing I can clearly distinguish between five of the bodies:  
Zayn’s ‘zap’ tattoo and Niall’s blonde locks are bright amongst the sea of black and white-- like most of my terrors usually are--, though Liam’s arrows are clear as well. When I see Louis and Harry sprawled out together, holding on to each other, I collapse and pull at my hair in distress; I feel the sobs trying to break free from my chest and I know that in some way I’m responsible for this. The guilt is eating me alive and I’m screaming at the shadows to let them go. Bring them back! Take me instead! But nothing works; I’m alone, just like every other time. I scratch at my skin-- it feels like it’s crawling with bugs.  
“Please! Please God let them go!” I beg, sobbing fitfully. I let out a small little sound of defeat and give up, falling down in a heap beside Zayn’s body.  
“I’m so sorry, God, Zee,” I whimper. Burying my face into his chest, I choke out a sob and close my eyes. I feel something brushing my hair and I shake it off, whimpering in defeat.  
"Less, Less baby, please wake up. Leslie, sweetie, I'm right here, love. I'm fine," I hear someone whisper, and I shake my head,clutching closer to Zayn.  
"Please. Please don't take me away from him, please. You've already taken him away from me. Just let me stay with him," I manage out, sobbing.  
"Leslie, Less, I'm okay, I promise, please baby wake up," the voice-- now I realize that it's Zayn's-- whispers and I shoot up, panting and sweating and sobbing. I curl in on myself and try to catch my breath, gasping before I finally regain control of my body.  
“Oh my god,” I choke out, breath hitching. Zayn gatherers me in his arms and I clutch to him tightly, sobbing into his chest and letting out little cries every few breaths. He pulls me close and presses small little kisses to my hair  
“Leslie, shhh. Baby, I’m here, love. I’m okay. We’re okay, yeah? Look, look at me, I’m fine, yeah? You’re fine. We’re okay,” he mumbles, pulling away to cup my face in his hands. “God, hey, c’mere, we’re okay. I’m okay, you’re okay, I’m here.” His eyes search my face and I’m whimpering like a child, clutched to him like he’s my last hope.  
“Don’t leave me, Zee. Please God, don’t ever leave me,” I manage to choke out against his chest.  
“Never,” he whispers into my hair, and I believe him. 

\-----Zayn-----  
She’s resting-- not quite asleep, but not really awake either; it took her forever and lots of coaxing on my part to convince her that I wasn’t going anywhere. I can’t sleep, though. The way she’d been when I’d found her: broken, sobbing because she’d believed that I was dead. I shake my head and pull her closer against me; my body curls around her back and I press soft kisses to her hair.  
If Liam was to ask it’s completely by mistake that my hand slips under her nighty top, but I feel raised wounds, almost like cuts, on her hips, and my mind instantly goes to the worst place. We hear about fans who claim they’ve been ‘cured’ from cutting because of the band, but I’ve never, never met someone in real life-- especially someone who I care for so deeply. (It’s not been easy to admit-- that I could be in love with Leslie. So fresh off my break-up with Perrie after the cheating rumors; the press would have a field day.)  
Gulping, I subtly run my hands back over the abrasions, and yes. That’s what it is. Though I hope, for a moment, that maybe, maybe, it’s only scratch marks. She’d been complaining for weeks about her allergies; maybe she’d only scratched her skin raw.  
But no. I’d seen this before-- seen the raw red marks on the arms of girls who’d hugged me tight and told me ‘thank you, thank you for what you’ve done.’ It’s never been so real to me as now; I don’t realize I’m gasping for breath until I hear myself wheezing and I have to take a few deep breaths before my heartbeat evens out again. I press a kiss to Leslie’s hair, more to soothe me than her, and rest my chin on the top of her head.  
She sighs a little in her sleep and scoots back farther against me; she’s got a cute little smile on and I can’t help but let out another shaky breath.  
How could someone so perfect, so wonderful and amazing, be hurting so much on the inside? How could she be hurting enough that she had to harm herself?  
And why... Why didn’t she trust me to help her? To tell her that she was too beautiful, too insanely and amazingly beautiful to do this to herself?  
Was I the reason she did this? Was it me? Had I done something to her? It made my skin crawl to think that maybe I had driven her to the point that she trusted no one.  
I only gulped, though, and rolled closer to her, pressing the softest of kisses to her neck. “It’s going to be okay, Less. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, thank you to everyone who's reading this, it's so great to come on and see where people have read it more and more. :) You guys are wonderfully amazing:).


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